


Who Haunts You?

by empires



Category: Titans (TV 2018), Titans - Fandom
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Language, M/M, Stolen Kisses, Titans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-27 12:28:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20407756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/empires/pseuds/empires
Summary: Strange people and strangers who really do need something to tie them all together. It shouldn’t be him.





	Who Haunts You?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Abbyromana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abbyromana/gifts).

> Thank you for the wonderful prompts, but especially the Titans verse idea. I've wanted to write one for ages!
> 
> Special thank you to @Nykyrianne for the beta read. Your hard-hitting questions and insight helped push this one to the finish line.

i.

Dick carefully backs out of the closet to avoid knocking Rachel over. She’s been following him from room to room for the half hour since he announced his intention to go back to Gotham, so close her heavy black boots clip the back of his heels. 

There’s no point in explaining himself or asking her to step back, because she’ll only cross her arms again, lips expelling the heavy breath of teenage disillusionment. But Dick tries anyway.

“I’m serious, Rach. Two days. Three days max. It’s important that I follow up on this. Jason really wasn’t in a good place when I left. But I’ll be back. I promise.” 

Lips pursed, Rachel tucks short back hair behind her ears like she’s considering, and then shakes her head. “No. No, this feels way too familiar,” she complains. 

"Familiar?" 

"Yes, I swear I've heard this before." Rachel nods as if answering her an unasked question. "I got it. Do you use the same speech every time you run out on someone or is it just because this is the second time in like, two weeks you’ve decided to leave me behind?”

That remarks hit like a bullet and he stops in his tracks. Rachel rebounds off his back with a startled squeak. He whirls, jaw clenched. Neither of them say anything for a moment, but Dick imagines Rachel’s thinking about the hospital bed, Dawn’s pale face and the slow tears sliding over Hanks cheeks.

“For the record, I was making a very careful decision asking Dawn and Hank to take you in. And I am not leaving you behind this time.”

“This time,” she scoffs, unimpressed by the restrained finger he raises. “Are you leaving?”

“Yes.”

“Are we going with you? Am I going with you?”

“No,” Dick concedes after a long, drawn out sigh. 

“Leaving us behind!” Rachel spreads her arms wide, and Dick stalks down the hall, five-foot-tall shadow scurrying close behind.

The kitchen is semi-occupied with Kori perched on the counter and Garth swiveling left to write on the bar stool. They both look up when he and Rachel enter.

“You’ve finished your discussion?” Kori asks, with a sly grin that says she already knows the answer.

Dick swipes a power bar and two bottles of water from the fully stocked refrigerator. Taking the three of them to Target had been an experience, and he realizes he owes Alfred an apology. Possibly dozens for every day from age 10 to 16.

“Mostly,” Dick says.

“No,” Rachel says.

Enough is enough. Sighing, Dick slings the duffle from his shoulder onto the counter and unzips it. His duffle bag is practically anemic containing only a change of clothes, sweatpants, and some toiletries. 

“Come on. Rach. Look. This isn’t even half my stuff. Why? Because I’m leaving it here. For when I get back.”

Rachel studies it then tilts her head away. “You’re rich,” she says simply.

“Hey,” Garth begins, voice wavering. “Are those condoms?”

Dick snatches the bag shut, while Kori sends another amused smirk his way. “You guys have my number. If there’s an emergency, call me immediately.” 

“We will,” Kori assures him.

“Can you believe we have Robin’s number?” Garth says, dreamily. “Robin.”

“Like he’s even going to pick up,” Rachel scoffs. “I’ve seen him do this before, you know.”

Dick’s at the door before anyone notices he’s left the kitchen. Another few seconds and he would’ve been out the door, but he sees a flicker of darkness, and then Rachel is in the hallway in front of him, arms wide blocking the path for a blink of an eye before disappearing. Her voice comes from behind him.

“You didn’t even say goodbye!”

Dick turns finding Rachel there, along with Kori and Garth coming into the entryway. “This isn’t a goodbye. I’ll see you later.”

“What are we supposed to do while you’re gone?”

Dick’s hand flexes on the door handle while he takes in the room of strangers. Kori’s gaze is quiet, Rachel’s worried, and Garth…. Garth hasn’t stopped looking at Dick like he hung the sun and stars since he pulled on the Robin costume. Strange people and strangers who really do need something to tie them all together. It shouldn’t be him.

“Wild idea, but you guys could, I don’t know,” Dick gives an exaggerated shrug, “Practice. Seriously,” he continues through their groans, “You’ve got a lot to learn and very little time to do it in. I’ve discussed a regimen with each of you. Start getting comfortable with those moves. You can show me the progress you’ve made. When I. Get. Back.”

“Ugh. Fine,” Rachel explodes. “Fine. But be careful, alright. And. You better come back.”

“I will. Take care of yourselves.” He finds Kori’s stare, holds it for a moment, silently asking that she keeps them safe, and she nods.

“I will,” she echoes.

“Alright. See you in a few days.”

Finally, he’s out of the apartment, but he can’t help but linger. 

“Guys, guys,” Garth says the second the door clicks shut. “Guys, I have been thinking. Thinking really hard. That guy is Robin.”

“Yeah,” says Rachel. “We know.”

“He is Robin and he is _ Dick Grayson _.” Garth’s excitement is audible. “Do you know what that means?”

There’s a pregnant pause, and then Rachel and Kori say in unison, “No.”

“Come on guys. It means. It means….” Garth’s voice lowers considerably, but the excitement still allows it to carry. “It means Bruce Wayne might have a secret.”

Another pause and then, “Who is Bruce Wayne?”

Sighing, Dick starts for the elevator. He’ll just have to deal with all that when he returns.

ii.

The minivan cruises over one of the many bridges leading to the ilsand city of Gotham. Dick eases past the halting tourist vehicles while he ends the call alerting Alfred to his arrival. Gotham is a crossroads, a connection between land and sea, roads and water lanes, past and present. He can roll down the window and smell it, salt air and four million people struggling on the same foundations as the citizens who came before them. 

This is the of Gotham Dick sees this morning. The side with the sun brillaint on the horizon where the downtown towers sweep high into a surprisingly clear sky. Rising sunlight bounces across the windows of a thousand skyscrapers and buildings filled with the most stubborn denizen on planet earth. It's the side that comes alive at the promise of a new day. His radio is tuned to Mad House Mickey in the Mornings, who gives three-minute reading of the day’s traffic reports and hot button points to avoid on the way to work with his heavy Jersey accent. 

“Lanes are closed on the Burnside bridge after an encounter between Batman and that villainous vixen—don’t know if I can call ‘em that anymore—Poison Ivy with an assist from the city’s own Boy Wonder. Ivy was apprehended at 3 am this morning, but the city’s fire department and park ground crews are still hard at work. Additionally, first responders are still attending multiple victims on the scene before they’re transported to the newly completed medical research center in Elliot Research Complex.

“And that’s your Street Watch for the morning.”

The segment music shifts into the classic sounds of a hard-hitting guitar chord, supported by the quick picking of a second guitar. Mad House leans into the mic like he’s talking to a friend.

“You know, we haven’t seen much of Robin over the past few weeks, and I’ll tell you guys…. I’ll tell you; I was worried he might’ve been hurt or benched again. We went without him for a very long, sad time. But there’s no need to worry. Gotham’s very own Dynamic Duo is back in town.”

His voice fades and the singer begins the verse.

“_ Guess who just got back today _

_ Them wild-eyed boys that had been away _

_ Haven't changed that much to say _

_ But man, I still think them cats are crazy…. _”

Dick grins even though he shouldn’t but. It’s nice to know someone missed Robin.

iii.

It’s not until the heavy manor doors slam shut and Dick has been plied with crystal clear water, perfectly steeped tea, a plate of sliced pork sandwiches with swiss and a peach and pecan tapenade that makes Dick close his eyes mid bite, and the dishes are settled that Alfred allows himself to be pulled into a hearty hug. 

“Thank you, Alfred. I appreciate you letting me in for the day without... you know.”

Alfred straightens the wrinkles from his jacket before replying. “It’s hardly a trial, Master Dick.”

“It’s just. Bruce.” Dick frowns, unsure what he even wants to say right now other than he’s not ready to talk to him yet. But Alfred knows, always does.

“Master Bruce has taken a flight into Manhattan for a research presentation at Star Labs. From there, he will travel to Metropolis for a fundraiser, where I am sure he will somehow be photographed leaving the Grand at the earliest hours despite returning to Gotham for his nightly activities. His business in Metropolis will last for two days. That leaves you plenty of time to speak to young Jason.” 

Now that’s interesting. “Not Master Jason?”

For the first time in his life, Dick sees a flurry of emotions cross Alfred’s face that wasn’t linked to some Bruce related crisis. Alfred settles for something like bashfulness, and that totally blow’s Dick’s mind seeing the sturdiest cornerstone in his life look like that.

“It is,” Alfred announces, haughtily. “A compromise.”

Dick cocks a brow. “Oh? What was he going to call you?”

“Gramps,” is the reply. Something about the way he says it lets Dick know Alfred was touched by the sentiment. It makes Dick feel unsettled, and it must show on his face because Alfred straights imperceptibly.

“He is a very engaging young man.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ve met him,” Dick says flatly. 

“So I’ve gathered. I imagined the events young Jason described varied wildly from your own personal experience.”

“You don’t even know the half of it.” Just meeting Jason had been a roller coaster of emotions Dick hadn’t been able to escape. Fighting alongside him had been…. It had almost been okay, cathartic even, until the moment ended with the suddenness of a speeding car meeting a brick wall.

Listening to the vitriol spewing from Jason’s mouth had been difficult. Seeing the rage that exploded out of Jason’s movements had stunned Dick in his tracks. Because underneath it all was a pain Dick recognized far too well. Oh, he didn’t know the source or cause, but he knows trauma being used as a lash to right the world while hurting it.

His experience is the reason he had to come to Gotham and confront Jason as quickly as possible. It’s not like Bruce is going to do anything about it.

“I want to talk to him, Alfie, really talk to him. I don’t think he’s ready for all of this.”

“My dear boy, if that’s your plan of attack, I fear you are in for a battle that you may not win.”

“Wouldn't be the first time we fought. And I've planned for it to happen again,” Dick admits, tiredly. “Still, there’s a lot of stuff he needs to hear. I’ve got experience and a perspective.”

Alfred favors him with a small nod. "Both are things young Jason would need going forward. Yet, I believe what young Jason wants more is someone to listen.”

A grin tugs Dick’s mouth. “I can do that too, Alfie. I’m a swell listener.”

Alfred hums. “Quite. But consider it as an opening move rather than a last resort. Now, tell me what other troubles darken your door.”

They spend the next hour catching up on general Gotham news, things that don’t appear on the front pages of the news, but don’t directly coincide with the vigilante experience. Dick tells Alfred about his own cases in Detroit and everything leading up to his returning to Gotham a second time. 

Talking through the experience with Alfred settles Dick, smothers the frustrated anger in his chest. Because he’s not only being listened to, he’s being _ heard _. It’s in the quiet focus of Alfred’s attention, the clarity and lack of judgement in his gaze. 

“I’m trying to do right by them,” he whispers. “But it’s hard. It’s hard and most days, I think I’m making it worse.”

“Yet you will endeavor onward and succeed, Master Dick. I know you will.”

Dick’s next few breaths aren’t weighted down and his head feels clearer. He smiles. “Thanks, Alfred.”

iv.

Walking into his old bedroom is like stepping into a time capsule of Dick Grayson, age eighteen. His dresser and keepsake shelves were stacked with trophies and medals from basketball, track, gymnastics, Future Business Leaders of America, and Mathletics meets throughout his academic career.

Pennants from his favorite sports teams hung above his desk, which was flanked by two massive built-in book shelves. They are still arranged in Dick’s particular order. Aerospace and mechanical engineering on the top row of the nearest bookshelf, below an entire shelf dedicated to elephants. Next is a row dedicated to other topics Dick had strong interest in, like programming, sailing, and a short series chronically Gotham’s crime families. His old notebooks, laptops, and programming kits take up the bottom shelf. The second bookshelf was filled with autobiographies, folklore, and travelogues. His row of fiction is pretty lean, stuffed with comics and some popular science and motorsport mags. He focuses on an anomaly on the bookshelf, a missing tome between his annotated Sherlock Holmes and Ivanhoe.

It even smells the same somehow. Clean like the lemon oil and lavender used to wipe down the wooden fixtures and the faintest trace of clean sweat and musky boy. Dick tosses his pack to the floor and drops onto his bed, moaning when it adjusts to his body perfectly, frim in the back, soft at the shoulders. He hasn’t felt this immediately comfortable and drowsy in years. He shrugs out of his shirt and snuggles into the pillows, catching the faintest whiff of cologne. Maybe it’s the scent packet Alfred likes to keep with the linens to keep them fresh. 

His gaze wanders to the nightstand, which holds three books. _ Robin Hood _ is stacked on top, solving the mystery of the missing book. The pages are marked by a guitar pick, just like the copy of _ Persuasion _ and _ Master & Commander _, which are also on the stand. He picks up the first, carefully placing the pick on the table and reads, falling into the leafy green adventures of Robin and his merry men until sleep captures him.

It feels like seconds later that Dick’s woken by a startled yelp, and then a whimper of strangled words like, “Holy shit I must be dreaming, I am dead and I am dreaming, fucking dreams come fucking true.”

Dick sits up slowly, ruffling his hair back from his face and squinting into the backlit shadow standing over his bed. “Is it time to get up already?”

_ Snap-click _! 

Dick yelps, shielding his eyes from the sudden flash of light. “What the hell!” 

Dick blinks furiously until the world resolves into Jason and his cellphone pushed right into his face. The camera flashes a second time. Dick shoves his wrist away.

“Holy shit this is real. This is real. What the fuck are you doing here?”

“What are you doing?” Dick frowns heavily, watching Jason for any sudden movements. School is out for the day, so Jason must have just made it back to the manor. He’s still in his Gotham Prep uniform, mostly, having lost his jacket and loosened his tie.

“Ivy was out in the city last night with a new toxin. It made people see things. We took her out hard, man. I mean, she whipped the shit out of B before he could cuff her, but I distracted her.” Jason rambles quickly almost too fast for Dick to follow. “Not that you want to hear about that. Anyway. She swore the toxin affects would wear off of me within twelve hours. I thought I was cool since school went okay, but then I come home and boom! Here you are. Thought I was tripping again. Bruce said I should check with another source when it comes to that.” 

“Hence the cellphone.” Dick yawns, stretching hugely. He feels like he could go right back to sleep.

“Hence the cellphone,” Jason echoes. He flips his cellphone with his disconcertingly large hand.

“What are you doing in my room?”

“First of all, it’s not your room. You don’t live here. Second of all, you have that big ass desk just sitting here. Plus you have the best frickin’ notes in your textbooks and like, I was so… appalled,” the word laughingly bursts from Jason’s mouth, “when I saw that you wrote in the margins. The disrespect, you know? But they are helpful. Like, how did you predict Mrs. Chevelle’s pop quiz rotation?”

Dick filters through the spray of words until he latches onto something important. “Why don’t you just ask for a desk to go in your room?”

“Why would I ask Bruce to buy a desk when I have a perfectly good one next door? With all the study materials I already need?” Jason scoffs. 

Dick can already feel a headache forming behind his eyes. Then he sees what’s in Jason’s other hand. It’s a white t-shirt with an intricate triangle design below the words “Black Out” in bold, sans-serif font. He’s on his feet in an instant, reaching for it.

“You can’t wear that shirt.”

Jason skips back a step, stretching his arm behind him so the t-shirt in question is behind his back.

“You left it here.”

“Yeah. In my room. Give it back.” Dick reaches for it again and is blocked by a sweeping forearm. Jason spins on his heel bring his knee up and around. Dick catches it easily, and slides a hand under Jason’s thigh and shoves him against the wall. “Drop it.”

Snarling, Jason struggles against Dick’s hold, before finally letting the shirt fall.

“Thank you.”

“Fuck you!” Jason pushes Dick when he’s freed. “You’ve got serious problems, you know that? First you’re all. You pretend to be cool, and then it’s all judgemental asshole. Now you’re back at the house you abandoned for what? To beat me up over a t-shirt?

“It’s special.” He’d bought the tee at a concert he attended with Dawn, Hank, and Roy. It had been a good night, one of the best nights he’d ever had, really. Back when things were good. Back when he was good. “Look, maybe I overreacted or whatever, but who gave you the right to come in here and steal my stuff? Was it Bruce? Because let me tell y--”

“I don’t care about your stupid domestic shit. You can’t take Robin from me!” Jason shouts. It hangs in the air, echoing in the room, echoing through Dick’s head all the way to the past, stopping him in his tracks. He runs his hands over his face then through his hair, sighing heavily.

“I’m not here for that. For real. I’m not. Really Robin anymore.”

“Yeah, sure. Heard all about that one. You quit the life,” Jason mocks. “Wanted to figure out how to work in the system. Stand on your own two feet. Funny how last time I saw you, we were both wearing the suit. And fucking owning. And then… heh.” Jason trails off into bitter laughter.

“And then…?” Dick prompts, but he remembers the rampage. A tornado of pain and frustration leveled the line of cops that strode through the door. It had been horrifyingly quick and precise with a level of juvenile showboating Dick didn’t want to recognize but did.

Jason had only been with Bruce for a year, and he was already following Dick’s footsteps, so close he can’t tell where his ended and Jason’s began. 

Jason pinches his lips. It makes him look petulant, Dick thinks. But he can see the hurt there. He isn’t surprised when Jason doesn’t finish his thought and instead says, “I don’t have to explain myself to you. You’re not Robin anymore, remember?” 

“Whatever you’re thinking right now, Jason, you’re wrong. Okay, you’re wrong. I’m not here to talk to Bruce about what happened.”

“Doesn’t fucking matter. He knows. I told him.”

“The truth?”

“Yeah.” Jason looks away. “Mostly.”

“What am I even going to do with you, kid?” It’s a rhetorical question, not a trace of the complex emotions bubbling along Dick’s feelings as he tries to sort through the ruins of this conversation. But Jason gets upset by that stray comment. Of course he does. Dick easily dodges the punch.

“I’m not a kid!”

“You are from where I’m standing,” Dick retorts. He grunts, caught by Jason propelling off the wall into Dick’s chest knocking them both onto the bed. Dick goes for the knee grinding into his thigh while Jason grabs his chin and then…. Dick’s eyes fly wide open as he’s kissed messily. It’s another throwback to the past. He’d spent a lot of years as Robin angry and tussling on this bed with Barbara, Roy, Dawn, hard pinches turning into a caress, curses into an angry kiss. Instinct drives him and he nips at the hungry nuzzling, bites hard, and is startled when Jason moans and shoves forward, sliding hands to the side of Dick’s face and sweeping a light touch over his cheekbones.

Dick breaks contact and climbs to his feet. Jason rolls to his back laughing, laughs harder when Dick glares down at him.

“That wasn’t funny.”

“I know. I know. But. I thought you were gonna hit me.” Jason explains, propping himself up on an elbow. “You did not hit me. You....”

“I know what I did,” Dick interrupts. “It was instinct, and it won’t happen again.” He says with finality, which does nothing to stop Jason’s leer.

“You bite people like that? For defensive purposes? You get someone hot and sweaty and then take ‘em out?” Jason whistles, then grins slyly. “Did you learn that one from Catwoman?”

“Okay, okay, enough, Jason.” The back of Dick’s neck is hot with the heat of embarrassment, but like hell is he going to let Jason know it. “You asked me what I came here for, well it’s to talk to you. We need to talk.”

“Sure, we could converse or,” Jason pats the bed beside him, “we could _ conversate _.”

“Let's count the many ways this will never happen. Number one: your age.”

"I’m 21!" 

Dick softly, "Jason. You're not."

“I am.”

“You’re in your freaking school uniform, man, come on.” 

With a heavy sigh, Jason falls back onto the mattress, all the fight and bite sapped out of him. “Should’ve known you’d figure it out eventually. I mean, you’re hot and you’re really smart. But you’re also a pussy. This is probably why they say you should never meet your idols.” 

Finally, Dick relaxes, minutely, pulling his desk chair out and sitting across from the bed. There’s humor in this situation, and it’s the only thing that allows Dick to let a small grin free. “Your idol, huh?”

“It’s a saying, alright, don’t let it go to your head.” His voice softens, along with the glare he shot Dick, leaving him a little intense but also eager. “But, I do recognize that you’re… You’re special, man, you matter. You’re Gotham’s hero, and I’m going to be your legacy.”

Stripped of the pride and cocksurity, a wistfulness coats Jason’s voice. And that’s familiar too. Rachel's luminous eyes, Garth's awed stare, even Kori looks at him like he's different somehow. And Now there's Jason, only it's worse. Jason wants to be a part of the very thing that stripped Dick to the bone. He can't let that happen.

“But you are a part of something bigger than Batman’s vendetta or even my,” he huffs, “My legacy if you want to call it that. Jason, you already are a hero. You know that right?”

Jason tilts his head back into the pillows. “Yeah,” he whispers. “I know. But I want to be better. One of the best. Like you.”

“That’s why I’m here,” Dick replies, just as soft. “It was a surprise when I met you, I admit it. But it hasn’t turned out to be a bad one. You-” 

"When are you going back?” That’s definitely not the question Dick wants to tackle right now.

“Soon. Tomorrow.” Dick winces when Jason’s gaze takes on that terrible disappointment, the expectation. “Maybe the day after tomorrow.”

Jason lazily twirls two fingers in the air. “One whole day. Big whoop.”

“Jason. Look, I’m trying. I’m here. But I also got a group of people back in Chicago who need. They need me.” Rachel’s big eyes filled with tears, the way Kori choked and clung to him as he helped her off the examination table, Garth covered in blood. Dawn on the hospital bed. Jason drowning in violence. “Fuck.”

“Must be hard. All these people in the world that need you.”

Dick stares at his hands for a moment. Calloused, nicked, the faint bruises on his knuckles. All from risking all that he’s ever been for the city that needs him. The people he’s saved at the expense of those he’s let down. And for a moment, he feels closer to Brue than he has in years.

“Yeah. It is. But there’s always a solution. This is the start of ours, alright. Me and you, Robins. So, you went toe-to-toe with Ivy last night?”

Jason cuts his eyes at Dick. They shine in the lamplight. “What about it?”

“Tell me how it went down.”


End file.
